I've been having this really bizzare reoccuring dream over the last few months. I'm not the kind of person prone to getting them, and it's very strange.

The focal point of the dream is my closet in my old bedroom back in the house we used to live in back when I lived in the valley. The strange thing, to me, is why I would be dreaming about THAT closet, and not my original closet, which had these neat shelves built in on the side and smelled of old wood.

Anyway... in the dream, there's always a small hidden "door" in the bottom right. I have to push the clothes to the left and the right on the rack, and crouch down. I'm very proud of this, because I made it all myself. When you crouch down and crawl in, you fall down this short tunnel and land in another small room. Sometimes in the dream, there's a small door you can just walk through to get to this room, sometimes it's the tunnel with the short fall and the claustrophobic feeling of being in a small dark space barely bigger than you are.

When you arrive, though, it's a large divided room that is in the rough look and the shape of the inside of the closet, and it's got all my costume and sewing stuff together, like a small atelier of crafting, or somthing. There was at least one large cutting table, a sewing table, and lots of storage room for completed costumes and craft peices and fabric and whatnot. I was really proud of setting the whole place up and finding a way to store everything and keep it out of the way.

The way out was a firemen's pole that led down into a secret back room of a pizza place. The kind that's got games, like a Chuck E Cheeze or a Peter Piper or somthing, except it had a lot more black light. I had special permission to use it or somthing, and the pole popped me out in this little room with a hidden door that exited near the bathrooms. It was strange. It wasn't open to just anyone, though, so it was like my own little private dark club.. pizza... place... or somthing. Dreams are weird like that. From there, you could take a staircase up to get back to where you started.

Last night, this reoccuring dream took a turn for the weird. I decided to hire a personal trainer, and Marg Helenberger from CSI Las Vegas showed up to be the trainer. The people I'd called the trainers for wern't that happy that they were being made to work out, and it made the two trainers pissy, so afterwards, I took Helenberger down to show her my costume area. She thought the little door and everything was really cool. I went down first, and the whole place was like some sort of surreal night club filled with people in black latex. The mascot for this place was Bridget the Midget, and she was in latex too. There were small rubber keychains of her on all the doors, etc. One of them was one of those martian popping things where they eyes poked out when you squeezed too hard.